


Stay

by KMDWriterGrl



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:03:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/KMDWriterGrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When CJ reveals she's thinking about resigning as Press Secretary after her slip-up during a briefing, Toby has something to say about it ... but the conversation is just the start ...</p><p>Post-ep for season 3's "Manchester."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> There's smut in this fic. Lots of it. Barrels of it. Gallons, even. It starts serious, sure, but don't get me wrong ... it turns into sex. A lot of it. I did not intend for it to turn into smut but it just sort of happened. As smut does.
> 
> The conversation to which Toby is referring is when he and CJ are playing pool at the bar that the West Wing and campaign folks go to their first night in Manchester. Watching the episode for a refresher isn't a bad idea but it isn't necessary.
> 
> Thanks for reading ... I hope you guys enjoy it!

“I know what you’re thinking about doing,” Toby said, repeating the same phrase he’d used during their game of pool earlier in the evening. He was saying it now, though, standing by the door inside CJ’s hotel room.

CJ slipped off her flats and sat down on the side of the bed. “Can we not do this, please?”

“No, we can’t not do this.” He came further into the room. “We’re going to sit here and do this until you give me an answer I find satisfactory.”

“You’re going to be here awhile then, because my mind is pretty much made up.” She plugged her cell phone in to charge, rooted in her purse for a bottle of Advil, and crossed to the bathroom to get water from the tap to chase the pills.

“You’re going to resign?”

“Yes.”

“You’re going to _hand in your notice_ as the White House Press Secretary?”

“Yes.”

“Because you said the wrong thing in a briefing?”

“Because I said a HUGELY wrong thing in a briefing.”

“It wasn’t hugely wrong.”

“It was pretty wrong.”

“You misspoke, CJ, it happens,” Toby said exasperatedly, moving toward the armchair by the window. “It’s happened before. It will probably happen again. Why all the histrionics?”

“Histrionics?” She stared at him incredulously. “HISTRIONICS?”

“Okay, see, this, right here?” He motioned toward her. “You’re proving my point.”

“Jesus, Toby, you’re an incredible jackass, you know that?”

“So I’ve been told.”

“He BENCHED me from a press conference!”

“You’re going to quit because Leo had Nancy McNally brief on Haiti instead of you?” Toby’s voice started to rise in exasperation. “That’s ridiculous!”

“So I’m ridiculous AND hysterical? As females are?”

“Don’t start,” Toby warned her. “Don’t pull the feminist card. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then enlighten me as to what precisely you did mean!” CJ stalked across the room and, realizing she had nowhere to go, paced back to the other side of it before whirling to face him. “And don’t you EVER call me hysterical again!”

Cognizant of the fact that there was a room on one side of them and windows that didn’t offer the best sound-proofing on the other, he endeavored to keep his voice down, hoping it would encourage her to do the same. “CJ, you don’t need to resign. You misspoke in the heat of the moment during a press conference that was already going off the rails. It could have happened to anyone.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you.”

Toby snorted. “No, because I would have lost my temper long before it got to that point. Look, they were giving you the third degree and you made a mistake. Quitting over it is an overreaction, plain and simple. Just give it a day or two and it’ll blow over.”

“It might have blown over if Leo hadn’t benched me. Doing that turned an ‘it’ll blow over in 24 hours’ incident into a much bigger story. It sends a message pretty damn loud and clear that he doesn’t trust me!”

Watching her pace was making him exhausted. It certainly told him, though, the extent of her anger. The breezy “I’ve got nothing more to worry about than a garden snake in the barn and the fact that I just lost $20 at pool” face she’d put on in the bar was a thinly veiled act. CJ was roiling with frustration.

“You’re right. It was a bad call. But don’t turn his bad call into a mistake you’ll regret for the rest of your life. This WILL blow over.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“What, there will never be a bigger story than the fact that you didn’t run a press conference on a military coup?”

“No, I--” CJ sank down onto the bed, clearly tired of pacing, and sighed deeply.

“So what is it, then? What has you so upset that you’re bound and determined to quit and leave me in a lurch?” Toby leaned forward, searching her face.

“It was an amateur mistake.”

Toby could have kicked himself for not seeing it sooner. This entire episode was bumping up against CJ’s sore point, the area of her professional career about which she was the most self-conscious … her lack of prior experience as a press secretary.

More than a year and a half ago Mandy’s opposition research memo had come to light, given to Danny Concannon by some source inside the White House about whose identity they were still unclear. Among the harsh criticism of their team was a discussion of the people Mandy judged to be the most professionally vulnerable. CJ was at the top of that list, the person with the least amount of practical experience as related to the job she currently held. The words “inexperienced” and “amateur” had come up a number of times in that memo, an assessment that, while true, had nonetheless rocked CJ to her core. Her humiliation deepened when Danny and Leo both lobbed the word at her after a misstep at a press conference less than 24 hours after the release of the memo.

She’d walked into Toby’s office at the end of that particularly hard day and asked him to go out for a beer with her. He’d readily agreed, more than happy to shrug off a work day that had not been the most pleasant for him either—Mandy had taken him to task in the memo, too.

That evening, after more beer than was probably good for either of them, and feeling quite morose, she had confessed uncertainty as to whether or not she was fit for the job. He answered her the same way now that he had then.

“He wants YOU, CJ. They both do. Leo and the President wouldn’t have brought you on to the campaign if they didn’t trust your judgment.”

“No, they wouldn’t have brought me on if they didn’t trust YOUR judgment. You’re the one who convinced them I’d be right for the job. They took me on your say-so, not on my own merit.”

“And you’ve more than shown your merit by now, don’t you think? It’s been a hard road the last month or two and you’ve handled it with skill and grace.”

“So then why is he punishing me? If it’s really a minor misstep, if I’ve really done such good work, why did Leo make me sit out of the press conference?”

Toby met her gaze. “Well … it could have something to do with the fact that his closest friend just disclosed that he hid a major health issue from the voting public, thereby opening himself and his wife up to legal proceedings up to and including impeachment, put his entire reelection campaign in jeopardy, and placed all of his staffers in the uncomfortable position of having to appear in front of a grand jury to be questioned about every aspect of their professional and personal lives for the last two and a half years. It could be he’s a little stressed out by that.” He shrugged. “But that’s just a guess.”

That took her aback. CJ bit her lip and finally nodded. “Yeah. When you put it that way, I guess I’m acting pretty stupid.”

Toby blew out an exasperated breath. “No, you’re not. Would you stop with the negative self-judgments already? Jesus. Look, I get that you’re angry and frustrated. I get that you’re self-conscious and upset. But none of that means you need to resign.”

“I don’t know what else to do.” CJ flopped back onto the bed with a profound sigh and closed her eyes.

“You need to stop thinking about it for a little while.”

Toby moved off of the chair and onto the bed, sitting close enough that he could reach out to touch her if he wanted to.

“You overthink entirely too much, CJ.”

“It’s a curse.”

“You might want to work on that.” He said it teasingly so that she wouldn’t take offense.

“So noted.”

He wanted to touch her. She was lying there, tired, upset, and he wanted to touch her to bring her some measure of comfort. In mixed company he had to fiercely fight the impulse to touch her … he and CJ could not be seen as being seriously involved with each other; there was too much room for major problems if it ever came out that they were. Tonight, though, he didn’t fight it; instead he laid a hand on her forehead, running his fingers gently through her hair.

“Do you have something you can take to help you sleep?”

An unfortunate side effect of the “all-hours” schedule they worked is that they all had problems falling asleep…though when they finally managed to, they slept hard and deeply. It wasn’t uncommon for CJ to call him (or for him to call her) at the end of a long day to decompress, talking about anything and everything that came across their minds, whether it was a story on NPR or a song from the 80s someone had been playing in their office during lunch.

“I might have some Benadryl in my bag,” she said, eyes still closed. She tipped her head back a bit under the pressure of his hand.

“That’s just going to make you groggy.”

“What else did you have in mind?”

“I can probably think of something.” The hand that wasn’t stroking her hair settled on her stomach, playing with the buttons on her white shirt.

“Mmm.” A small smile played across her lips. “We haven’t done that in a long time.”

“I know.” He worked the tiny buttons free, revealing her skin inch by inch. “A little too long.”

“In our defense, we HAVE been busy.”

“We shouldn’t be too busy for this.” His hand touched the warmth of her bare skin and he felt her shiver. “You cold?”

“I’m turned on.”

“That’s what I was hoping.”

He slid his fingers into her hair and tipped her head back just a bit further, enough that he could lay a kiss on the line of her throat. He kissed her gently, slowly, with just the barest scrape of his teeth across her skin, enough to make her shiver again, deeper and longer.

“God, you feel good,” she breathed, her hand rising to the side of his face. “I try not to think about how good you feel … it just makes me want you more.”

“I know.” He nipped at the side of her neck and slid his lips down along her collarbone. “Believe me, thinking about the way you look in an evening gown is a dangerous proposition.”

“Does it make you want to make out with me?” she teased, alluding to the inadvertent display of flirting at their Big Block of Cheese day meeting several months previous. He’d looked so rapturous that she’d arranged for there to be no cameras in a meeting with a group of WTO protesters that she’d cracked, “You want to make out with me right now, don’t you?”

“When don’t I?” he replied now, as he had then. He shifted his position on the bed until he was leaning over her, his mouth working magic on the silk of her skin. “You turn me on like no one else can, Claudia Jean.”

She shifted, rose onto her elbows, and unbuttoned her shirt the rest of the way before throwing it onto the floor and lying back, clad from the waist up in just her bra and gold necklace. Toby leaned over and kissed the plane of her stomach, running his fingers up and down her sides in teasing strokes. He knew her preferences by now, because they’d been doing this—whatever this was—for so long. She loved to have her neck kissed and her breasts fondled. She was happiest being underneath him because she loved the weight of his body on top of hers. She liked it when he pinned her wrists above her head as he thrust into her or held her hips down with strong hands as he brought her to a searing orgasm with his tongue. She came more strongly when he urged her up and over an erotic peak by talking dirty to her as they made love. He KNEW CJ, knew her so intimately and so well that it was easy now to know how to distract her from the turbulent thoughts roiling through her mind.

He focused on the long line of her torso, kissing and caressing her pale skin, occasionally nipping—never enough to break the skin, just enough to make her hips jerk.

“Anything on your mind now?” he asked, his mouth sliding lower, his fingers squeezing her hips.

“If I resign we won’t get to do this anymore,” she said around a soft moan.

“Excellent point.” He slipped her jeans and her panties off of her hips and went to his knees in front of her. “So don’t resign.” He kissed along the curve of her inner thigh, scratching his beard along the delicate, sensitive skin there, a sensation that drove her wild every time.

“Are you trying to bribe me?” She threaded her fingers through his hair and moaned as he nipped at her skin. “Oh … again. Do that again.”

He curled one hand around her hip, laid the other across her abdomen, insuring she wouldn’t move as he slid his mouth to the warmth of her sex and began to lap at her with his tongue.

“Jesus, Toby!” she gasped, immediately starting to breathe harder. “Oh my god!”

He kissed the inside of her thighs in between long, leisurely flicks of his tongue, noting with no small amount of satisfaction that she was starting to tremble. “Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice husky.

“God, I hope so!” She pushed her hips up against the pressure of his hands. He pushed back, not too hard, just enough to keep her hips immobile before he resumed licking and sucking.

“You hope so? That’s not the answer I want.” He pushed in deeper with his tongue, flicking her clit, causing her to moan helplessly before he came up for air. “Let’s try it again. Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yes, god, yes!” CJ arched her back, panting now. “Toby, _please_ …”

He kept up the same pace, driving her solidly toward a climax, holding her hips still when she pushed up against his hands. Her hands fisted the sheets at her side, desperate for something to cling to as he rocked her with wave after wave of molten pleasure. He eased up his hold on her left hip and slid his fingers into hers, letting her cling to him as he drove her toward the crest of an orgasm.

She came hard, trying not to cry out, mindful that there were West Wing and campaign staffers in the rooms surrounding them. Her back arched and her fingers bore down on his instead. She moaned and the sound shot through him, hardening him even further.

He worked her through the climax, playing her with his tongue, milking the sensations, hoping to get her off a second time. He knew that if he couldn’t do it this way he could manage it again with his fingers or his cock, which was now rock hard. He and CJ were incredibly responsive to each other’s bodies … multiple orgasms were a norm for them, rather than a surprise.

When it was over she dropped back onto the bed, limp, breathing hard. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, touching her trembling inner thigh. “You came so hard for me.” He eased the pressure on her hips as he got to his feet, stopping to press a kiss low on her belly—she found it incredibly erotic to be kissed there and he was only too happy to oblige. “Hold on, let me get you some water.”

He came back in a moment with a glass of water and a warm washcloth. With a deft touch, he smoothed the warm cloth along the inside of her thighs, wiping away traces of her climax, while she sat up halfway to sip from the glass. Her face was flushed, her hair tousled; she was always beautiful to him but never more so than when she was disheveled from the pleasure he’d caused her.

He leaned on the bed on one knee so he was half-standing, half-kneeling, purposely taller than she is, wanting the advantage of height. He cupped the back of her head with one hand and tipped up her face to him.

“Do you want me, CJ?”

She met his eyes, bold assurance and lust written all over her face. “You know I do.”

“Can you handle me right now or do you need a minute?”

More boldness in her reply. “I can handle anything you want to give me.”

He loved it when the dynamic between them was like this, when they could match each other point for point. There were times when he got off on lightly dominating her, on controlling her pleasure as he had by refusing to let her roll her hips as he ate her out. Other times he liked letting her take the lead, straddling him, riding him to a fierce climax, he more than willing to follow wherever she might want to take him. Tonight, though, he wanted her with him every step of the way, making love with him just as much as he was making love to her.

She reached to unbutton his shirt. He let her; he’s always found it a turn-on to let a woman he’s about to make love to undo the buttons on his shirt before pushing it off his shoulders and letting it puddle to the floor. He unclasped her bra in return, throwing it to the floor along with his shirt. He gathered her against him, pressing his bare chest against hers, and breathed her in, running his hands up and down the long line of her back.

“Your body is amazing,” he whispered, kissing her neck. “You’re like a waterfall, Claudia, all of these beautiful lines and curves that just flow.” He slid his hands up and down her hips. “You make me want to drown inside you.”

He pushed the comforter aside and pressed her down onto the cool sheets of the bed, before shucking his pants and boxer briefs and positioning himself between her legs. He knows she likes the comfort of his weight and warmth on top of her when it’s their first time together after a long drought and doesn’t mind obliging.

He kissed the side of her neck and slid his fingers into her warmth, stretching her gently. She gave a soft hmmm of pleasure and settled back against the pillows.

“How long has it been?”

“Since the last time we did this? Right after Rosslyn, when you came to check on me.”

That’s right … he had come to her after the hellish night and day of waiting for word about Josh, about the suspects, about everything. He had come to her apartment, ostensibly to check on her, and the visit had gone from a concerned conversation about each other’s welfare to a night of sex-- rough, sweaty, angry sex. It was not because they were angry at each other but because they were angry at the world. After, they’d made love, slowly and tenderly, Toby kissing the scratches on her neck where her necklace had been torn away, she touching the bruises on his chest where he’d been pressed hard against the metal rungs of a fence, waiting for the hail of bullets to stop raining down on the sidewalk.

“Way too long then.” Toby flexed his fingers inside her, stretching her gently so she could take all of him when he was ready to enter her. She slid her legs farther apart, opening up for him, getting wetter with the pleasurable stroking of his clever fingers.

He kissed the side of her neck again. “I want you, CJ. Are you ready for me?”

“You know I am.” She grasped his cock and stroked the hard length of it. “I love feeling you inside me.”

He pressed forward, nudging the tip of his cock against her wet folds. Her hands, one on his shoulder, the other on the back of his neck, remained relaxed—his rule when they’re together like this is for her to squeeze if she wants him to stop for any reason.

“Stop me if it’s too much,” he reminded her.

“I’m fine,” she assured him, and he pushed forward a bit more, easing himself into her slowly. His eyes moved to her face—she met his gaze and gave him a tender smile. “I’m not glass, Toby.”

“I couldn’t stand it if I hurt you,” he admitted.

“You couldn’t … not like this.” She dropped a hand to his hip and urged him toward her. “Push inside me. Even if it’s been awhile, I can still take it.”

He pressed himself all the way in and nearly came from feeling the tight, wet heat encompassing his cock. “God, CJ, that’s good!” He laid his forehead against hers and breathed deeply, trying not to come right then and there.

“I know,” she murmured. “I love the way this feels.” She ground her pelvis against his and consequently had to bite back a sharp moan. “Take me, Toby; take me hard. Make me come again.”

He began moving quickly, knowing he wouldn’t last long, making the most of every thrust. He alternated thrusts, deep, shallow, deep, shallow, and felt her open wider for him. She was wet and hot, her hands clenched tight on the hard muscles in his shoulders, not with pain but with pleasure, breathing hard and fast as she took each stroke of his cock.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urged her, when he could hear her breathing really start to pick up. “I want to feel you tighten around my cock.”

“Toby,” she half-moaned, half-gasped. “Toby, I’m about to come.”

She likes it when he talks her into an orgasm--she wants the reassurance of his presence as she tips over the side of a jagged erotic peak. She also wants the repertoire of dirty talk that he’s mastered since they’ve been together.

 “Feel my cock, hard inside of you? Feel it fucking you? Let me feel you give yourself over to it.” He pushed deep inside of her, stroking her clit with his fingers.

She gave a little half-scream, half-sob, that he stopped with his mouth as he kissed her fully on the lips, fisting his free hand in her hair. “That’s it, honey, grab it while it’s there. Give me all of it, baby, come for me as hard as you can.”

He felt the muscles deep inside of her core contracting, pulling him in further. He welcomed the sensation, thrusting into it, prolonging her orgasm and making her fall suddenly into a second one. He talked her through it, whispering in her ear as she moaned and shook. “That’s it, honey …that’s right, give me one more. One more time, baby, come hard for me again.”

He couldn’t stave off his own orgasm, not after watching her fall into two intense ones, so he gave himself over to it, thrusting into her with deep strokes, finally coming with a groan that he muffled in the side of her neck.

Neither of them could move for several minutes, each getting their breath back. Toby recovered first, easing himself off of CJ and onto his back. He found the cool washcloth he’d used a bit ago to help her clean up and he used it for the same purpose now, smoothing it gently along her thighs. She gave a soft contented sigh and murmured, “thanks” before taking it from his hand and finishing the job herself. She rose, stepped into the bathroom, and brought back a wet washcloth for him, too, and water for both of them. Still naked, she stretched back out on the bed next to him and lay her head on his chest.

“Hi,” she murmured, playing her fingers up and down his chest.

“Hey,” he replied, running his fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. “You okay?”

“I’m spectacular. How are you?”

“Much better now.” He kissed the top of her head. “We need to do that more often.”

“I’m not averse to that.” She dropped her hand languidly onto his hip. “Especially if you promise to keep talking dirty to me. You’re pretty amazing at it.”

“You’re the only one I’ll do it for.” He slid his fingers to the back of her neck and rubbed, grinning when he received a low, rapturous moan in return. “Feel better now?”

“Mmmhmm.” She let herself relax and settle into him as he worked her neck. “I think I can sleep.”

“Good.”

“Will you stay with me?” she murmured, her voice already growing drowsy. “Keep rubbing my neck?”

He considered it. Not a good idea for anyone to catch him coming out of CJ’s room in the morning. But … to hell with it. He’ll worry about that in the morning.

“As long as you stay with me,” he replied, hoping she’d take his meaning. “Stay where we can do this again.”

Her voice was more alert, though her body was still relaxed. “I’ll stay.”

He reached over to the bedside lamp and snapped it off, his hands finding her again in the dark. “So will I.”

 

END


End file.
